Tate took the hose from Ailsa and threw propriety to the wind; he deftly rolled a stocking on to one of Toby’s legs. “I fear that my visit has brought you bad fortune,” he said quietly. “Get your wife and get out of this place. Be quick about it.”
“This place is all that I have!” Balin wailed. “I will not go, I tell you!”
“You must or it will burn down over your head.”
“Then let it burn. I will not leave!”
He ran off and they heard a door slam. Ailsa, confused and frightened, began crying. Tate rolled the other stocking onto Toby’s leg, trying not to think of how soft and shapely it was. “Ailsa, sweetheart, find your sister’s shoes,” he commanded softly. “We must hurry.”
She did as she was asked, sobbing. In little time, they had Toby dressed and Tate collected her in his arms once more. The three of them moved down the smoky stairs; de Roche still lay upon the landing and they stepped over him. On the first floor, the great hall was filled with heavy smoke and some flame. The fire was gaining. Tate carried Toby out into the yard.
The Harbottle troops that had been encamped on the eastern side of the manor house were trying to douse the fire that had consumed most of the northern section of the house; the kitchens and solar were completely engulfed. Toby, only semi-conscious, nonetheless realized what was happening.
“My father,” she whispered. “Where are my father and mother?”
Stephen and Kenneth met Tate in the yard. All of Mortimer’s men had been either subdued or killed and were no longer a threat. The men-at-arms had taken young Edward back to thegarçonnaire, which was still standing. Mortimer’s men hadn’t tried to burn it. With all of the men running about trying to put out the fire, the environment was chaotic.
“I must go after the father and mother,” Tate deposited Toby into Stephen’s big arms. “Ask me later how she stood up against de Roche.”
“I already heard,” Stephen replied. “Edward told us. Where is de Roche?”
“Lying unconscious at the top of the stairs.” Tate motioned to Kenneth to follow him but he gave Stephen a pointed look. “Take care of her.”
“With all that I possess, I swear it.”
By the time they returned to the manor, the majority of the structure was completely engulfed. The troops from Harbottle had given up trying to douse the flames and were simply standing around, watching it burn.
Tate was about to enter the front door when the roof collapsed, crushing everything beneath it in a horror of ash and flame. The force of the collapse blew out the doors and windows, nearly scalding Tate and Kenneth as they attempted to gain access.
Sparks and smoke flew into the late morning sky until all that was left of Forestburn Manor was cinders and sorrow.
CHAPTER FIVE
Riding at nightwasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Tate felt that they had been given little choice. The sooner they reached Harbottle, the better for them all. Mortimer’s men were after them and Tate was anxious to put young Edward behind the massive walls of his castle.
Tate was in full armor, something he’d sorely missed earlier in the day with Mortimer’s men running about. The tempered steel breastplate had been forged in Rouen, as had the sword at his side. His gloved hand stroked the dragonhead of the hilt, a carved masterpiece of metalwork. Though the road was quiet, still, he was preparing to draw it at any moment. He and his knights were silent, their senses attuned to their surroundings.
“Mortimer’s days are numbered,” Edward said quietly, attempting to fortify his courage. “He killed my father and he is trying to kill me.”
“He has been trying to kill you since you were a small child,” Tate replied evenly. “He is simply being more obvious about it now.”
The youth hung his head. Edward was still very sensitive. Tate knew what he was thinking without the lad speaking his mind.
“As I have always told you, I am sure your mother knows nothing,” he spoke with quiet assurance. “Mortimer is clever. There is much he can hide from her.”
“But you told her what he was doing,” Edward said. “She did not believe you.”
“She refused to believe ill of him. He freed her from the tyranny of your father and she is blinded by that.”
Edward sighed heavily, tightening the reins on his blond steed. “She will believe when I take my rightful place and throw Mortimer to the executioner.”
Tate didn’t reply. Like so many conversations with the lad, they had traversed this one before, too. He glanced at Stephen, astride his big black stallion, and at Kenneth, who was watching the surrounding trees like a hawk. It had been a long night for all of them and they were all exhausted, yet their exhaustion would have to wait. They were in the open and vulnerable and had to reach safety.
“It is my suggestion that we stay vigilant until we reach Harbottle,” Tate said. “We will all be thinking more clearly once we are within the safety of her walls.”
“What about Mistress Toby?” Edward wanted to know. “We must still go to London; our stay at Harbottle is not permanent. Do we leave the women at Harbottle to fend for themselves?”
Tate thought about the sisters, asleep in the wagon that they had taken from the stables of Forestburn. Toby had been too ill to react to her father and mother’s gruesome death, but Ailsa had been inconsolable. He felt a good deal of guilt at the thought of heading off to London and leaving them behind in a strange castle. Like a vicious storm he had moved in, destroying everything in his path, and then left those caught in the maelstrom to deal with the aftermath.
